


Gentle Reminders

by one_black_coffee



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Georgie Denbrough Lives, Idiots in Love, M/M, pure fluff, this is so self indulgent, we don't know what canon is here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29528268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_black_coffee/pseuds/one_black_coffee
Summary: The words--- spoken between them countless times: breathless whispers, casual reassurances, gentle reminders--- buzzed on Bill’s lips. Stan had closed his eyes at some point but Bill continued to stare. He knew Stan was still awake. The conversation had lulled and there was no point opening it back up. It had come to a natural conclusion. Still, Bill had more to say. He always did. But he thought better of it and ceased the buzzing by pressing his lips against Stan’s.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Gentle Reminders

It was snowing out.

Winter had started off slow for the first few weeks, trailing along behind Autumn with slightly harsher winds. The sun hid behind clouds and surrendered the world to the grace of the moon sooner and sooner with every passing day. The Losers began climbing down the ladder to the clubhouse with blankets wrapped around their shoulders--- Stan, much like with his tin of shower caps, had been the first to bring in a surplus of blankets so they’d all have blankets the colder the months got.

Through the first two weeks of December they’d all managed to slip away from their parents and hide out at the clubhouse for useless study sessions and hours of reckless decisions. The clubhouse was dirty and freezing and subjected the rest of them to Eddie’s endless rants about how they would all probably would have died of something catching before exams, but it was their best option. 

Unsurprisingly, Eddie was the first one to announce his mother had barred him from spending any more time in the cold until Spring had come back around. Rather than bother trying to sneak Eddie to the clubhouse as they had all done numerous times over the years, they came to the mutual agreement to spend the rest of the winter at the Tozier house when they could. Maggie and Went were always more than happy to have The Losers around, even letting Bill bring Georgie along on multiple occasions. Eddie’s mother wasn’t happy about that but she let it slide most of the time.

With the new ban on the clubhouse, The Losers had closed it up for the winter, dragging out whatever they didn’t want to leave beneath the ground and covering the trap door with even more leaves than usual. None of them had the sense to bring a lock of any sort, assuming if someone really wanted to get in, they would, regardless of a lock and it would be kinder to Ben to not give anyone the need to break the door.

Group hang outs were regulated to Richie’s house, his being the only one where they could speak above whispers without the fear of a parent coming down to disperse them. Maggie and Went were always kind, letting their son’s friends stick around as long as they pleased. They had gotten used to it over the years. Eddie and Stan had been the most frequent visitors when they were younger. Stan had eventually drifted from seeking comfort at Richie’s house in part to allow for Eddie to be with Richie alone, but also simply because Bill had provided a new option.

For the few months, Bill’s offers to let Stan hide out in his home when Stan didn’t have the energy to uphold all of his parent’s expectations had been brushed aside with a sincere “thank you, but no thank you” and left there. Then, the excuses had stopped. Stan didn’t care to explain why they had stopped, and Bill didn’t push him past the late night exchange they had after the second time Stan had just shown up at his house. The Denbrough house was less than ideal--- distant parents who still somehow managed to be far too overbearing and judgemental, and an excitable little brother who insisted he be included in most, if not all, of the older boys’ activities. Stan never complained. He liked Georgie and he was good at pleasing parents. And, he sure as hell liked Bill.

It worked for them.

Most days found Stan at Bill’s house. If plans hadn’t been made with the other Losers, Stan and Bill were most likely together. Stan spent as much time as would make his parents happy in his own home, then quietly collected his things and left for Bill’s. He had a key for the house, even. The key was only used when he didn’t want anyone but Bill to be aware of his presence, though. The majority of the time, Georgie would be waiting for him at the door, anyway, ready to tell him all about his day as he followed Stan to Bill’s room. It was a routine in which both had fallen very comfortably.

Bill’s parents didn’t care to question Stan’s comings and goings and Stan’s parents were too  _ afraid _ to question Stan’s comings and goings. As long as Stan kept his room neat, plastered on a delicate smile, and sat politely at dinner at least four times a week, making idle small talk that suggested absolutely nothing of his connections to Bill, Donald and Andrea Uris were happy to indulge in self delusion.

One evening, after having eaten his dinner without starting any fights and washing the dishes, Stan kissed his mother on the cheek and told her he’d be back the following day; Maggie and Wentworth Tozier had agreed to let them all have a movie night at Richie’s. They didn’t need to know about Maggie and Went’s distinct absence nor of the fact that this was a movie night that was not intended to be a group sleepover. So Andrea smiled at her son, telling him next time he should invite that sweet, young girl from his math class to join him and his friends. Stan nodded, willing to play along in his parent’s foolish act if it meant he could keep doing what he really wanted.

An hour later, Stan sat back on the floor of Richie’s living room, watching his friends lose their minds--- specifically Bill.

Ben and Mike had been kind enough to stop and pick up cheap, shitty food on their way over. There was one rule Maggie and Went had for their movie nights: they would provide a set amount of alcohol, whatever food the kids wanted was up to them to get. So Mike and Ben’s arrival had been met with joyous shouts as the rest had immediately chosen their bags of food and hoarded them--- Stan had salt and vinegar chips, Bill got white cheddar popcorn, Richie had twizzlers and dill pickle chips that Eddie stole, Mike, plane potato chips, and Ben and Bev shared the BBQ chips.

The last movie night had been a showing of  _ Tangled _ , chosen by Bill. The rights to pick the night’s movie had since been passed to Mike. Mike wasn’t known for abusing any powers he may have had, except on movie nights. No one truly  _ disliked  _ any of Mike’s choices, but they certainly were not movies the others would have chosen. That was how The Losers had come to spend the night watching  _ Seeking A Friend For The End Of The World. _

As always happened, they all stopped paying attention about half way through the movie. By then, they’d all had their fair share of the alcohol and half the snacks were gone. Ben was staring at the screen, completely zoned out. Bev and Ben were discussing the movie in the manner of elementary school children talking about their Book Club Books. Richie, too used to high doses of alcohol to be affected, had pulled a rather drunk Eddie into his lap and was doing shitty impressions to make the other laugh. Stan, having the same heightened tolerance as Richie, was doing his best not to laugh as Bill mumbled nonsense against the couch cushions.

Stan was on the floor while Bill had sprawled himself out on the couch, his feet almost kicking Richie in the head, not that either noticed. Not a word Bill said was coherent enough for Stan to understand. He nodded while Bill talked, humoring his boyfriend, and choking on laughs every time Bill was startled by the presence of others in the room.

“Don’t l-laugh, Stanny. It’s rude.” His words were mildly slurred, though Stan knew him well enough to know that was mostly out of exhaustion. Bill never got enough sleep, staying up to write  _ just one more thought _ or sketching  _ just one more line _ . That habit had been worse over the past few days, Bill insisting he had to work on his Holiday Gifts for The Losers and Georgie.

Stan swore he wasn’t laughing and brushed the hair out of Bill’s face, leaving his hand on Bill’s cheek as a casual touch while Bill melted against his touch and quietly fell asleep.

Mike’s movie ended and none of The Losers were willing to leave yet. They had all sobered up relatively well over the course of the remaining hour. Eddie mumbled about a headache and Richie told him to stop being so dramatic--- he kissed his head and gave him an aspirin while the others weren’t looking. It was technically Bev’s turn to choose the next movie but really any movie after the first became fair game to whoever grabbed the remote first.

Richie got there first.

Loud complaints were heard from everyone--- except Bill. He was still asleep with his head tucked snuggly into the palm of Stan’s hand. For another half an hour, Stan was stuck half turned towards Bill, half towards the TV. He’d be lying if he said he couldn’t sit and watch Bill sleep for hours and never grow bored, he just didn’t want to be that level or unbelievably in love while the others were around.

Richie’s movie--- a horror film with the same general plot as at least a dozen others they’d seen before--- wasn’t terrible. It was simple but caught them all with jump scares now and then. They were all just tired enough to settle down and pay attention to the movie but not tired enough to fall asleep. Mike, known for falling asleep far sooner than the rest, only nodded off once during the first half hour.

Bill woke up to “intermission”. Richie and Bev restocked the living room with sodas while the movie was paused and Eddie, Ben, and Mike stretched out. Stan stayed seated, not wanting to disturb Bill. But Bill still woke up, his nap supplying him with enough energy.

Yawning, he asked Stan, “What’re w-we watching?”

Stan moved to ruffle Bill’s hair before pulling his hand back to his own lap. “Horror movie. Richie chose it after Mike’s movie ended.”

“Any good?” Bill sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking down at Stan with a dopey smile.

“It’s alright. Nothing new.”

“Why’d w-we p-p-pause, then?” Bill had yet to look around at the others in the room, happily focusing on Stan instead.

“Intermission. Eddie started bitching about being thirsty and Richie made a bunch of sex jokes so I threw a pillow at them and Ben suggested that we actually take care of the issue instead of being assholes to each other.”

That wasn’t anything Bill hadn’t witnessed before. Stan and Richie had gotten into much louder, physical fights--- all out of love, though neither would ever admit that--- and Bill had slept through those too. “N-n-need a h-human shield, by any ch-chance?”

“I don’t  _ need _ a human shield. You’re just warm and very distracting.” That was bullshit and they both knew it. Stan enjoyed horror movies more than Bill but jumped at every scare.

“Whatever you say, Stanny.” He squirmed his way into Stan’s lap, leaning up just enough to press a kiss to Stan’s jaw before settling down. Forcing off a love-sick grin from his face, Stan wrapped his arms around Bill.

Bill only managed to stay awake for another fifteen minutes after Richie finally sat down and started the movie back up. He paid as much attention as he could, playing with Stan’s fingers lightly every time he felt Stan flinch. But Stan was holding him so close, letting him use Stan’s shoulder as a pillow, even kissing the top of Bill’s head whenever Bill jumped. Stan wasn’t surprised when Bill stopped moving, his breathing evened out, and he grew heavy in Stan’s arms. This happened often.

After a while more and more of The Losers had started to drop off. Bev went first,--- after Bill--- her head on Ben’s shoulder. Then Richie, face pressed into the crook of Eddie’s neck, and finally Mike. Eddie paused the movie once he realized the only ones who were truly interested had fallen asleep.

“Richie’s either going to wake up and scare the hell out of everyone in ten minutes or not wake up until morning,” Eddie said.

Ben nodded. “Bev’s out, too. And so is Mike. I’ll drop him off at the farm.”

Eddie switched off the TV while Ben snapped his fingers in front of Mike’s face. Mike woke up fairly easily, but Stan tuned out their conversation. “Billy? Darling? It’s late. We should leave.”

Bill shifted slightly, grabbing hold of Stan’s shirt to hold him close. “But I’m tired, Stanny.”

“That’s the point, genius. You keep falling asleep on me so it’s time we go back to your house. Ben is driving Bev and Mike home, Eddie’s dealing with Richie. I’ll drive us back.” Stan tilted Bill’s head until he could see his face, all tired and puffy with sleep. He kissed Bill’s cheek and said, “Let’s go home, Bill.”

“Mm, only if y-you carry me.”

“I’d break every bone in my body trying to carry you. I’ll help you walk, though. Come on, stand up.” Stan gently pushed Bill out of his lap then took hold of his arms to pull him to his feet. Bill swayed, eyes falling shut again, and Stan put his arm around Bill’s waist to steady him. Looking across the room, he saw Eddie propping Richie up in a similar position as Bill. Ben and Mike had already said their goodbyes.

“See ya’, Stan The Man.” Eddie gave a half salute. Stan returned the gesture and slipped out the door with Bill heavily leaning on him.

He managed to get Bill into the passenger's seat without much resistance. Sleep stubbornly clung to Bill’s mind, making him lean against the car door and forget how to put on his seatbelt. “Stannyyyyy?”

“Yes, Bill?” Stan buckled himself in and started the car, turning the vents away from them as cold air poured out, not yet warmed up enough for the air to be hot.

“Can you d-do the b-b-buckle thing for me?”

Stan sighed but reached over to help his boyfriend. “You’re acting drunk, dumbass.”

Bill giggled, unaware of the way it made Stan blush. “I am drunk, Stanny! D-drunk on love!” He grinned and reached out to Stan, expecting a kiss as a reward for his joke. Stan muttered that that was the most ridiculous thing Bill had ever said but still gave him the kiss he wanted.

Bill’s house was only five minutes away from Richie’s by car. It took them another five minutes just to get in the house, Bill stumbling and refusing to open his eyes causing a great deal of inconvenience. Twice, Bill crashed into a wall, earning him a hissed “be quiet or someone’s going to hear us!” each time. Stan ended up carrying their shoes upstairs while Bill stumbled and tripped up the stairs.

“Go brush your teeth or I am not sleeping in the same bed as you,” Stan said, lightly shoving Bill out of the bedroom and towards his bathroom. Bill mumbled that Stan was a liar, well aware that Stan could resist the opportunity for cuddles no better than Bill, but complied, wanting Stan to be happy and comfortable. Stan joined him in the bathroom moments later, already changed into pajamas, and pulled out the spare toothbrush he kept in the cabinet.

The water and bright bathroom lights made Bill’s head clear. He remained tired but he didn’t  _ need _ to cling to Stan anymore just to remain stable. Of course, Bill did not like that. He knew that Stan didn’t mind Bill being clingy, but he still liked the excuse of being tired to shamelessly lean into Stan whenever he wanted and have Stan not even bother trying to hide the smile he reserved only for Bill.

So Bill hopped onto the bathroom counter, wrapping his legs around Stan’s hips to pull him closer. Stan didn’t resist at all. Bill put his head down on Stan’s shoulder, closing his eyes and focusing on Stan--- his breathing, his ever-warm skin, the way he instinctively put one hand in Bill’s hair while the other continued fussing over his own hair. The counter wasn’t comfortable and trying to get affection out of Stan while he was focused on other tasks wasn’t ideal but Bill wasn’t picky. Stan still let Bill hug him and gave Bill a half hug in return. That was certainly enough for Bill.

Eventually, Stan shifted slightly and put his other arm around Bill’s shoulders, too. His head rested on top of Bill’s, not even trying to pretend like the smell of ink that permanently clung to Bill wasn’t extremely calming. “We should go to bed, Bill.”

Bill hummed in agreement, yet neither pulled away.

“It’s cold in here and the lights are too bright.”

Bill nodded. Still, they remained as they were.

“I’m tired. And you’re basically already asleep.”

“Then c-carry me to bed.”

Stan laughed--- Bill would never say it out loud, too afraid it would scare Stan off, but Stan’s laugh made his heart ache with joy every time--- and kissed the top of Bill’s head. “I don’t think I could even carry Georgie anymore.”

“That’s b-b-because Georgie is a fucking m-monster.”

“Don’t be petty just because your little brother is almost taller than you now.”

Bill pulled back and made a face at Stan--- that only served to make Stan laugh. “I’ll be p-petty if I want to be p-petty, Uris.”

Offended by the sudden use of his last name, Stan poked Bill’s sides, causing him to squirm and struggle to swallow his laughter. “Don’t call me Uris, Denbrough!”

“That’s a double s-s-standard, Stanthony,” Bill said between muffled laughs.

Even more shocked and offended by the new name, Stan stopped his assault on Bill’s sides, settling his hands on Bill’s hips instead. “God, you sound like Richie. But worse. Never call me ‘Stanthony’ again or I’ll break up with you.”

Grinning, like the cheeky bastard he is, Bill replied, “You could never.”

“Oh couldn’t I? What on Earth makes you so sure about that?”

Bill simply put his hands on Stan’s cheeks, pulling him down for a kiss. Naturally, Stan instantly forgot about the entire conversation, absolutely melting into Bill’s lips. It wasn’t long, though, before Bill broke the kiss, smiling too widely to be able to continue. “That’s why you c-could never break up w-with me. You’re t-t-too weak.”

Stan glared at him. It didn’t work. His cheeks were bright red, eyes still slightly unfocused. Bill couldn’t help but smile even wider, more than a little bit proud of the reaction he always got from Stan after just a kiss.

“You’re a dick,” Stan muttered, burying his face in Bill’s shoulder. “I want to go to bed now and cuddle you and never speak to you again.”

“You couldn’t g-go an h-hour without talking to me,” Bill said, hopping off the counter and taking Stan’s hand, leading them back to the bedroom.

“I could if I didn’t hate everyone else so much.” Bill dropped his hand and pouted. “Fine. And if I didn’t love you so much.” Once again, Bill grinned. Stan rolled his eyes, pretending like Bill’s confidence in Stan’s love for him wasn’t incredibly endearing.

“I love you, too, Stan.”

“Shut up.”

Bill quickly stood on his toes, pecking Stan’s cheek, before turning around and crawling under the sheets. It took Stan a moment to regain his ability to function. Bill kissing his cheek was normal, a casual touch to which they had worked up over the past two years, but Stan was already flushing from Bill’s last kiss. He really was very weak for his idiot.

Stan crawled in after Bill, pulling the covers over them and turning off the lamp on Bill’s nightstand. Briefly, he wondered if either of them had had the foresight to plug in their phones when they had gotten upstairs but all thoughts were pushed away when Bill snuggled back into him. If Bill’s casual kisses left Stan dizzy, Bill pressing his back against Stan’s chest and gently pulling Stan’s arm until it was slung over his waist left Stan reeling.

“When do y-y-you have to go?” Bill asked.

“Don’t know. Mom didn’t say anything when I left. She thinks I’m with Richie.” In the dark, Stan found Bill’s hand and laced their fingers together.

“Georgie s-said he saw some c-c-cool birds the other day. He w-wants to show you.”

Stan smiled to himself--- he was close enough to Bill that Bill could still feel the smile ghosting over the back of his neck. “Is he home tomorrow? I wouldn’t mind hanging around to see some cool birds.”

“He m-made me promise to ask i-if you’d want to go with u-us after he and Mom g-g-go to the library.”

Stan yawned, pressing closer to Bill as he did so. “He better not wake us up before ten. I have no idea what time it is now but it’s fucking late and I have no intention whatsoever of letting go of you before ten.”

Bill squeezed Stan’s hand. “I’m o-okay with that p-plan.”

A comforting buzz hung around them, dulling all the edges of their world until it had narrowed to just the warmth of the other’s body and their gentle breathing. Neither was truly close to sleep, having fallen into more of a hazey limbo--- not asleep, but in a state of consciousness that disallowed cohesive thought processes.

“You know, someday,” Stan started, effectively shoo-ing away the cloud of sleep that had been hanging on Bill’s mind, “we’re not going to have to wake up for anything. We’ll be able to just stay in bed all day. With each other. All day. Just us.”

“What about jobs?” Bill asked.

“Absolutely not. Fuck society. We’ll be hermits and won’t need money.”

That sounded more than okay to Bill. “Where w-will we live?”

Stan considered that question for a moment. He had thought about his answer many, many times throughout his years of pining over a life he was sure he would never be fortunate to have, but he still thought before answering. “Cottage in the woods. It would be good for your writing and drawing--- you have the world’s greatest imagination; imagine what you could do with an entire forest for inspiration. And the birds would like it, too.”

Bill chuckled. “We’ll h-have birds?”

“Of course we will.” The easy out was entirely in Stan’s tone. Anyone else wouldn’t have noticed it:  _ only if you want it. _

Bill couldn’t imagine not wanting it. “Do our b-birds have names?”

“Haven’t thought about it.” That was a lie. He had lists of names. He just didn’t like picking names before he could decide if the names were  _ right. _

Wanting to be as close to Stan as possible, Bill turned in his arms and tucked himself under Stan’s chin. He habitually moved his hands under Stan’s shirt, warming his hands on Stan’s stomach and cooling Stan in the process. Stan hummed his approval.

“What about th-the other Losers?”

“I love them but they do not exist right now. I don’t want to think about Eddie screaming at Richie for getting mud in the house while also getting mud in the house. This is a happy fantasy--- stop fucking laughing, I didn’t mean it like that, you creep--- and it involves only us. And our birds.”

The last of his childish laughter dying down, Bill couldn’t blame Stan. The Losers were wonderful and all, but the thought of a life  _ just with Stan _ could almost make him cry out of pure happiness. That was a tenderness that was  _ very  _ rarely shared amongst The Losers. “Can w-w-we have little tea c-cups that look like m-m-mushrooms?”

“Obviously we will. A bunch of different colors, too.”

“Oh! Like the rainbow!” Bill said, excited by the prospect of little, gay mushrooms.

Stan shifted away just enough to look down at his boyfriend. The look of pure, innocent, excitement on Bill’s face made Stan’s heart flutter. “Yeah. Like the rainbow, Billy.”

Bill smiled up at Stan. “And we’ll have p-p-pretty candles, too?”

“As many candles as you want.”

“What about chocolate?”

“What  _ about _ chocolate?” Stan asked.

As if it were obvious, Bill said, “We’ll always have a stash around, right?”

“ _ Of course. _ ”

“And pretty flowers?”

Stan bent his head slightly to kiss the tip of Bill’s nose and didn’t bother to move away. “I’ll get you fresh flowers every day if that’s what you want.”

“You’re allergic to the pollen.”

Stan shrugged. “Worth it.”

Bill didn’t question nor doubt that Stan loved him. Stan could tell him to hush as many times as he wanted when Bill was stupid and cheesey; Bill could still dedect the faintest smile on Stan’s face. Stan could insist continuously that he, in fact, hated Bill but the way he so readily offered Bill his jacket on windy days was proof enough of the contradiction his words were to the truth. Staying up, late into the night, holding Bill against him and whispering about a future they both knew was a pipe dream was another contradiction.

The words--- spoken between them countless times: breathless whispers, casual reassurances, gentle reminders--- buzzed on Bill’s lips. Stan had closed his eyes at some point but Bill continued to stare. He knew Stan was still awake. The conversation had lulled and there was no point opening it back up. It had come to a natural conclusion. Still, Bill had more to say. He always did. But he thought better of it and ceased the buzzing by pressing his lips against Stan’s.

“ _ I love you _ ”s had long since dropped their habit of making Stan flinch. They weren’t over used between them, but they weren’t strangers to the words by any means. But that wasn’t the point of their conversation, Bill thought. There was no need to spell out what they’d been saying. He didn’t want to cheapen the conversation by tossing the romanticism of  _ giving _ that love so easily to each other through the idea of a future that included each other.

A kiss, though, seemed appropriate. No words needed. Just a way to sum up everything they'd promised. Soft and sweet, lingering just enough to chase away the remaining haze of almost-sleep and push them towards rest.

“Goodnight, darling,” Stan whispered when they’d broken apart.

Bill closed his eyes and let himself fit right against Stan, falling asleep with the warmth of promises and kisses.


End file.
